The Singularity Trap
Dennis E. Taylor
Copyright © 2018 Dennis E. Taylor - All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art by Stephan Martiniere
Author Blog: www.dennisetaylor.org
Other titles by the author
The Bobiverse series:
We Are Legion (We Are Bob)
For We Are Many
All These Worlds
Dedications
First, and always, I want to dedicate this book to my wife, Blaihin, and my daughter, Tina.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to:
Members of the Ubergroup and Novel Exchange group on scribophile.
Sandra and Ken McLaren
Nicole Hamilton
Sheena Lewis
Patrick Jordan
Trudy Cochrane
Table of Contents
Glossary of Acronyms
Cast of Characters
1. Emissary
2. Launch
3. Financial Concerns
4. Departure
5. Being an Asteroid Miner
6. Trying Another Location
7. Tallying Results
8. Paydirt
9. Checking it Out
10. Infection
11. Recovery
12. Investigation
13. Situation Analysis
14. Adverse Reaction
15. Deja Vu
16. We’ll Handle It
17. Continuing Infection
18. Strategy Meeting
19. Writing Home
20. ICDC
21. A Difficult Conversation
22. Consternation
23. The Chrome Man
24. The Way Things Must Be
25. Crew Reaction
26. In the Common Room
27. Most Paranoid Wins
28. Taking Courses
29. Arrival
30. Quarantine
31. First Looks
32. Status
33. Looking Over His Shoulder
34. Unrest
35. Screaming
36. Discussion
37. Enemy Threats
38. Investigations and Discoveries
39. The Continued Threat
40. It Hits The Fan
41. Putting It in Perspective
42. In the News
43. Reconsiderations
44. Interlude
45. Retrieval
46. Press Release
47. Anomalies
48. Finally
49. More News
50. Summary of Findings
51. Discharge Day
52. Release
53. Unbelievable
54. Demands
55. It’s Moving
56. Failsafe Implementation
57. Escape
58. Detonation
59. Finding Refuge
60. Calling with News
61. Vessel Released
62. An Unexpected Call
63. Purchase
64. Reports of My Death
65. Humanity’s Options
66. Naval Exercise
67. Strike Force
68. Counterstrike
69. Collateral Damage
70. Arrest
71. Visiting
72. Preparations
73. Second Assault
74. Reconfiguration
75. Waiting for The End
76. Defensive Strategy
77. Surveil
78. Approach
79. Attack
80. Response
81. Found
82. Discussion
83. Reaction
84. Face-Off
85. Aftermath
86. Conversation
87. Funeral
88. Coda
For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?
-Mark 8:36
Glossary of Acronyms
RIVA Rocket Impelled Vector Adjustment
IMM Interplanetary Merchant Marine
ICDC Interplanetary Centers for Disease Control
UEN United Earth Nations
UENN United Earth Nations Navy
SSE Sino-Soviet Empire
SSC Strategic Space Command
ISI Interplanetary Science Institute
AQRI Advanced Quantum Resonance Imaging
Cast of Characters
Crew of the Mad Astra
Andrew Jennings Captain
Dante Aiello First Mate
Albert Micoroski Pilot, astrogator
Lita Generus Co-pilot and purser
Charlie Kemp Doctor
Duncan MacNeil Engineer
Ivan Pritchard Computer specialist
Seth Robinson Crewmate and friend
Tennison Davies Senior crewman
Arcadius Geiger Crewmate and other noob
Raul Alfaro crew
Willoughby Todd crew
Robert Sala crew
Fredric Robertsson crew
Aran Sokal Control Systems specialist
Aspasia Nevin Scooter pilot
Lorenza Raske Mining Robot specialist
Cirila Heinrichs Geologist
ICDC Staff
Madhur Narang Senior Investigating Pathologist, ICDC
Karin Laakkonen Director, ICDC
Haruki Nakamura Assistant Investigating Pathologist, ICDC
Noelia Sandoval doctor
Henry Samuelson doctor
Alwin Schulze physicist
Matt Siegel computer expert
UEN Navy Personnel
Admiral Theodore Moore Chair, Quarantine committee
Commodore Michael Gerrard Quarantine committee
Admiral Alan Castillo Quarantine committee
Admiral Georgia Richards Quarantine committee
Commodore Alice Nevin Quarantine committee
Lt. Colonel Neil Martinson Quarantine committee
Lieutenant George Bentley Moore’s assistant
Captain Xuân Lê Frigate Outbound
Captain Norman Harding Cruiser Resolute
Commodore Rani Mandelbaum Task Force Officer in Charge
Lt. Ernest Voigt Interrogator
Mercury Residents
Emilia Jonquers Resident of Vulcan’s Forge
Bruce Jonquers Mining specialist, Emilia’s husband
Ian & Caleb Jonquers Emilia’s children
Others
Judy Pritchard Ivan’s wife
Josh & Suzie Ivan’s children
Roger Tenn’s partner
Emissary
One final nudge from the solar wind, and the traveler floated in orbit, just one of many insignificant pieces of flotsam at this distance from the local star. A voltage through the lines caused its sail to fold into a neat, compact package.
The journey from the previous star had taken millennia, but the traveler was incapable of feeling boredom or impatience. Nor did it feel anxiety over the many more such hops in its future. The traveler worked through its checklist, shutting down some systems, activating others. Some maintenance would be required—the nearby asteroids wo
uld be more than sufficient to supply the raw materials.
The traveler scanned the stellar system, looking for planets or moons that matched any of several templates. And almost immediately, success! A blue-green planet with strong spectroscopic lines indicating oxygen, water, and one of the many biological strategies used to harness sunlight. No lights, no radio traffic, but the traveler didn’t concern itself. Intelligence would come, or it would not. Either way, the traveler would be long since gone.
The traveler launched a drone to the nearest asteroid. Raw materials were mined, maintenance was completed, and an emissary was constructed to wait for the emergence of any intelligent life.
The traveler couldn’t feel joy or satisfaction—the Makers had been very careful to limit its level of sentience. The traveler knew this as a datum, but had no opinion otherwise.
Nevertheless, this stop had been successful. Several checkpoint items were marked completed, and other goal trees activated.
It was time to move on. A voltage through the anchor lines, and the sail unfolded. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the traveler began its millenia-long journey to the next candidate star.
It could wait.
Launch
“One minute to launch.”
Ivan gripped the chair arms even tighter. The pain in his fingers penetrated his panic, and he struggled to unclench his hands and slow his breathing.
He looked at the arms of his blue coverall, relieved that the cloth was still dry. If he couldn’t get a grip soon, the sight of a sopping-wet uniform would only encourage the other crew members to more of what they apparently thought was witty commentary.
And anyway, his funk made no logical sense. The Sling had been launching shuttles into orbit with no major incidents for almost forty years. Technically, this was safer than air travel. And he was going into space! This should be fun.
“Hey, noob. You aren’t going to have a jammer, are you?”
Ivan glanced to his left at Tennison Davies, sitting across the center aisle. Tenn, a beefy, florid Texan, was a veteran of asteroid mining, returning for his tenth tour.
In fact, every one of the crew signed on with the Mad Astra had at least four previous tours with the mining ship. Everyone except himself and Arcadius Geiger, and Kady looked like he was falling asleep. Show-off.
Ivan and his fellow crew members sat together, taking up two complete rows. He could see groups from several other ships, all wearing similar utility coveralls, also heading up in preparation for a six-month mining tour. The coveralls, standard-issue items probably made by a single company, were identical except for the ship insignia on the left breast. The Mad Astra crew wore a stylized image of a hand reaching for a star.
Several clunks and a shudder ran through the shuttle, and Ivan renewed his death grip. He half-expected to hear a squeal of bending metal from the chair’s arms. A faint whiff of flop-sweat assaulted his nostrils and he realized he was again losing the battle with panic.
“Fifteen seconds,” the P.A. intoned.
Ivan closed his eyes and tried deep-breathing exercises again. Too late to back out now. Even if he unbuckled and ran screaming for the exit, the shuttle would launch on schedule, with him plastered to the rear bulkhead. Three months of training and simulations, which had felt like an adventure of its own, now seemed nothing more than wishful thinking . He was about to be shot into the air in a tin can, with no say in his fate, not even a view of space for the next fifteen minutes.
“Relax, noob,” said Davies. “We haven’t lost a crew member in weeks.” The veteran miner grinned at Ivan, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. He looked more like a cat anticipating a meal than someone offering reassurance.
Ivan opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, the Sling kicked in. His body was pressed into his seat as the shuttle accelerated down the track. It would continue for the entire five-kilometer stretch of the launch tunnel, air resistance reduced by massive pumps that pulled the air from in front of the shuttle and pumped it back in behind.
The occasional moan floating up the aisle showed that he wasn’t the only person having trouble. He tried to extract a small kernel of solace from that shared misery.
Thankfully, this part of the takeoff was smooth—nothing like the old space launches, perched on top of an explosive cylinder of fuel, being rattled so hard you felt your teeth would fall out through your ears. Ivan concentrated on his breathing, and on not whimpering in fear. He hadn’t been tagged with a nickname yet, and he sure as hell didn’t want to provide the crew with that kind of material to work with. Certainly not before he’d even left atmosphere.
The shuttle hit the upcurving part of the Sling, and the acceleration vector changed, now pushing him down in his seat as well as back. The pressure would only last seconds—possibly the longest seconds of his life.
As the shuttle left the Sling behind, boosters kicked in. Specially tuned microwave emitters heated and rarified the air in front of the shuttle, reducing air resistance as the vessel clawed its way into the sky.
The bump and rattle gradually faded as the shuttle climbed through the atmosphere. After five minutes, the boosters shut down, leaving them in free fall. The sudden silence made Ivan wonder for a moment if his hearing had been damaged. Fortunately, Davies provided his own brand of reassurance.
“Hey, looks like the noob survived. Didn’t even pee himself, I don’t think.”
Ivan turned his head to glare at Davies and provide suitable return fire.
Big mistake.
The hammering he’d just taken during launch, combined with the free fall conditions, were already playing hell with his beleaguered stomach. Add the insult to his inner ear from an abrupt turn of the head, and with an oop Ivan grabbed for the barf bag in the pocket in front of him. The retching seemed to go on forever.
One of the unfortunate aspects of the human condition was that the acrid odor of vomit tended to induce vomiting. Several more oops sounded through the cabin. There would probably be some eventual abuse for that, as well.
Finally recovered, his face dripping in sweat, he rolled up the bag and placed it in the receptacle. Turning to Seth Robinson, seated on his right in the middle seat, Ivan said, “Well, great. I guess I’ve just earned a nickname.”
“Naw,” replied Robinson. “If we gave out a nickname for puking, most of us would be called Barfie. You’ve got two days to get that under control, noob. If you’re still tossing it up come departure day, you’ll be scrubbed. You’ll get your money back for your share purchase, less the standard penalty. And we’ll be doing a six-month tour short a body. Clear?”
Ivan nodded, silent. The penalty would wipe out what small equity in his share he’d managed to build. If he washed out, he’d be left with nothing.
He glanced at Robinson. Freckled and redheaded, thin and gangly, a good fifteen centimeters taller than Ivan, Robinson could pass for a teenager in the right light. It was hard to believe that the man was old enough to hold a Spacer certificate. If Robinson could do it, Ivan could damn well do it.
“Docking maneuvers start in thirty seconds,” the P.A. announced.
Ivan looked up—carefully, this time—and cursed the lack of windows. He was in space. Granted, asteroid mining wasn’t the most glamorous way to get there, but most avenues to space involved military commissions, significant wealth, or some specialty in high demand at the space stations or colonies. The child of climate-change refugees who lost everything when the ocean took their home, Ivan’s options were strictly limited.
He thought of his family, of the dead-end, soul-crushing job that was the best he could get despite finishing at the top of his Computer Science graduating class. The bug-infested, too-small apartment that was all he and Judy could manage on two salaries. This was their only way out. He would get this done. The pay was better to begin with, and if they hit any kind of significant mineral lode—
The shuttle jerked as maneuvering thrusters
kicked in. The passengers endured several minutes of random accelerations—fortunately for Ivan’s stomach, all low-thrust.
“This pilot sucks,” muttered one of the crew. Ivan craned his neck to look over the seat backs and identified the speaker as Raul Alfaro. Dark-haired and olive-skinned, Alfaro spoke with a faint Spanish accent.
“Belay that, Alfaro,” barked another. “You’re a guest here.”
The rebuke came from Albert Micoroski, the pilot of the Mad Astra, sitting across the aisle from Alfaro. Pilots stuck together, and one wouldn’t tolerate bad-mouthing another’s flying. The Astra’s co-pilot, Lita Generus, added her glare for emphasis.
Before Alfaro could respond, a clunk resounded through the walls as the shuttle docked. Again, Ivan wished for windows. He might as well be on Earth in yet another simulator, for all the actual adventure he was getting.
They had just docked at Olympus Station, the hub for space travel anywhere in the system. The enormous, double habitation rings, a full kilometer in diameter, formed the most well-known and iconic image in the civilized world. The view during the approach must have been spectacular.
“There are lots of windows on the station, noob,” Robinson said, seeming to read his mind. “You can spend the next two days watching shuttles and ships come and go. As long as you pass the pre-flight, your time is your own, once we’ve met with the captain for the standard benediction. Star Lounge, half an hour. You know where that is?”
Ivan responded with a small shake of his head.
“Noobs…” Robinson rolled his eyes. “Just stick with me when we get into the station. You can handle free fall, I hope?”
* * *
Astronomical. The word didn’t apply to just stars and planets. Ivan scanned the drink menu and felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. He’d had steaks that cost less. Real steaks.
Davies, sitting across from him, laughed. “Yeah, noob, just one of many things you have to get used to. But not to worry. The locally produced stuff is much cheaper.”
“And where would I find that?” Ivan asked, waving the menu.